


Mr. and Mrs. Smith

by Sintero, Staubengel



Series: Venomber [3]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Venom (Comics)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Peter steals Wade's mark, Semi-Public Sex, symbiote host!Peter, with tentacles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 22:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8464822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintero/pseuds/Sintero, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Staubengel/pseuds/Staubengel
Summary: It should have been an easy assignment for Wade, a little bit of recon culminating in a hefty pay day for offing his mark at the end. But, leave it to Peter and his symbiote to throw a wrench into the works.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet is part of the Month of Venomber symbiote posting fest taking place here: [http://writhingbeneathyou.tumblr.com](http://writhingbeneathyou.tumblr.com/)

Hand on his hip, Wade considered the prone body before him and took note of the artful splay of its limbs. He toed it softly to determine if the corpse was still fairly pliant and, satisfied, kicked the dead weight over onto its back.

Sure enough, it was his mark.

“Mother fucker,” he exclaimed, wheeling away to pace up and down the nondescript alley. Apparently his mark had been taken out approximately twenty minutes before Wade could exact his pay day fun times. “Goddamn, paycheck stealing, son of a spider whore!” he hollered as he repeatedly kicked the brick wall in front of him. He eventually ran out of steam and opted to rest his forehead against its craggy surface instead. With a dramatic sigh, he glanced back at the poor sop, some cartel jackhole or another, and couldn’t help but chuckle despite the disappointment.

Remnants of black ooze clung to the man’s shirt and framed a gaping chest wound that even Wade would have a tough time recovering from.

“Where’s Ripley when you need her?” he asked the darkness as he laughed at his own morbid joke.  

“I have no idea, but if you’re searching for her, there’s a good chance I will find her before you do,” a voice quipped from somewhere behind him.

“She’s probably in the dollar bin at Blockbuster. If you get a move on, you might beat me to her, too. But first, you owe me fifty grand, asshole,” Wade retorted without moving from his position against the wall.

The person hummed, considering. “Can I pay in kind?” they asked.

The cheeky tone finally made Wade turn around to give the man the full brunt of his unimpressed glare. “I’m listening. Though, ‘in kind’ had better include foot rubs and raspberry lavender glitter bathbombs,” he stated petulantly.

Peter grinned from where he hung upside down near the wall opposite of Wade, his exaggerated canines  glistening in the faint light.

“I refuse on the bathbombs, but I will rub whatever you want, babe,” he cooed.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Wade responded, rubbing his chin in consideration. “Alright, so how about the foot rub, we’ll substitute bubble gum bubble bath instead of the bathbombs, and tack on a more than sixty second handi. And I’m talking the full detail knob wax, no imitations accepted.” He pushed off from the wall and made his way over to Peter, exaggerating the sway of his hips. He was going for ‘seductive,’ but the effect was more comical than anything.

“If you’ll make me pancakes for breakfast and let me stay over night, you got yourself a deal,” Peter chuckled, eyes lingering on Wade’s over-dramatically wiggling hips. “Do I have to set your hip first, though? It seems off. Got a hard kick in the butt from someone?”

Wade braced his hands against the wall on either side of Peter’s head and leaned in close enough to feel the man’s breath on his mask. “Yeah, actually. There’s this giant, murder happy pain in my ass that keeps sticking his adorable face into my business. And not only has he put a serious hamper on Bea and Arthur’s night life,” Wade explained, rolling his shoulders to indicate his twin katana. “This guy also has the audacity to demand my sweet Canadian pancakes to boot! Can you believe that, Baby Boy?”

Peter gasped and stared at Wade with a slightly open mouth and wide eyes. His iris’ were striated with black streaks that bled into the whites of his eyes as well, like fading watercolours.

“No way!” he exclaimed. “You should totally punish that guy, honey-cakes!”

“I know, right? But he’s all souped up with this Nightmare Before Christmas suit and would totally kick my ass into next Sunday,” Wade pouted. “If only there was another way to convince him to change his wicked ways.” Shifting even closer, he brushed his masked lips across Peter’s, as light as a zephyr, then retreated just enough to meet his gaze once more. “Any suggestions, Babe?”

“Hmmm,” Peter hummed and canted his head. “That’s tricky. Apparently intimidation wouldn’t work, so how about the other route? Making him love you so much that he couldn’t possibly do anything that would upset or compromise you?”

Wade glanced up at the smog-lit skyline above as if considering Peter’s suggestion. He stood tall and crossed his muscular arms across his chest, jutting out one hip in a way that he knew arched his body into a graceful S-curve and emphasized his physique.

“But I tried that already and this fucker still keeps stealing my jobs right out from under me. At this rate I’ll be on the streets shaking it for wilted taco lettuce by next week.”  

“Maybe you haven’t tried hard enough,” Peter suggested and licked his lips. “Maybe you need to convince him once more. Real often. All the time. And maybe you need to smarten up and just claim the money for this mission anyways. Who knows who killed the guy, right? Chop off the head and show it to them; they won’t know it wasn’t you who ended his life. Instead of convincing this other guy to stop doing your job at a faster rate than you, maybe you should actually thank him and use your free time to clean the house and buy nice stuff at Victoria’s Secret.”

“It’s the principle,” Wade grumbled as he lifted his mask up over his nose. He ghosted his gloved palms over Peter’s cheekbones, where tracks of black tar rose up like tiny tendrils to meet him, then angled his head to capture Peter’s spit-slick lips.

The young man gave a low sound of approval and pushed his head forward to slot their lips more tightly together.

“Mmmh, maybe if you fuck him so thoroughly that he can’t leave the bed tomorrow,” he hummed before he kissed Wade again, bringing his tongue forth to run over the merc’s mouth.

Wade accepted him eagerly and pressed forward to take everything he was given. The wet slide of their tongues was tender and unhurried in the shadow of the dank alley. He took his time leisurely exploring every inch of flesh that he could reach until his nostrils flared from the effort. Panting softly, he broke the kiss and licked at the wetness on Peter’s lips, relishing the subtle tang of black licorice.

“Won’t know until I give it the ole Deadpool try, I guess,” Wade commented breathlessly. He jostled one leg and tugged at the sudden tightness in the crotch of his suit.

Peter, who was likewise panting, gave a low growl of approval. “How about you take him home then and go for it,” he proposed. “Or just take him right here and now as an appetizer?”

“Tempting. Really tempting. But maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’ve been giving him a bit too much of the carrot, ya know?” Wade stated with affected aloofness. He pointedly reached into his pants and readjusted himself with far more effort than necessary. “Maybe it’s time to give him a taste of the stick.” Grinning slyly, he pulled his mask back down and turned to walk away.

“Oh, you mean S&M?” Peter asked. He launched off of the wall  and landed on Wade’s back, wrapping his arms around his neck. The twin katana made it quite uncomfortable, but Peter didn’t intend to let go. “Now that’s what _I_ call tempting, naughty boy,” he  announced. “Come on, hit me.”

Wade staggered under the impact, but gracefully regained his footing. “Hit you? Nah. I’d end up like this dick hole over here,” he drawled as he automatically supported Peter’s thighs and made his way over to the corpse. “And as much as I’m into sloppy penetration, I ain’t looking to have to plug the murder holes in another suit, Baby Boy. I guess I’ll just have to keep feeding you the carrot for now,” he pronounced, turning his head to kiss the crook of Peter’s elbow. The black surface of Peter’s suit shifted in the wan haze of streetlight like something possessed and peeled back so that Wade’s masked lips pressed against skin.

Peter chuckled and rubbed his head against Wade lovingly. “Shame,” he hummed. “But you know, you’re probably right. It doesn’t make sense for me to kill your marks. You will kill them anyway, so I should make better use of my time and go after another bad guy instead of doing your missions for you.”

"You do it just to fuck with me and you know it," Wade grumbled beneath his breath while he jostled his human backpack enough to retrieve his phone from the myriad pouches at his waist.

“I would do everything to fuck with you,” Peter sing-songed from his back with a grin, his words laced with innuendo. “Not that that’s necessary though, you’d fuck me either way.”

Wade shrugged and aimed his phone’s camera at the blue-tinted corpse. “You bet your sweet, Halloween-came-early ass I would,” he agreed readily, then sighed and lowered his camera. Thick black ooze continued to meander about the mark’s gaping chest wound. “Babe, could you get your black shit off of my Payday peanut bar?”

“Aaaw, don’t talk about it like that,” Peter scolded softly. “You know it has feelings.”

He reached out and let the dark substance covering his fingers grow towards the corpse like tentacles, curling and weaving. It connected with the spot on the dead body which eagerly crept back into the black mass. Then it retreated until it had reached Peter again, but instead of nestling against his fingertips, it wrapped around Wade’s chest like a hug where Peter had settled his hand.

“Better?” the young man asked and pressed a kiss onto the side of Wade’s head.

“Mmm, much better,” Wade hummed as he snapped the photo and perfunctorily sent it to his employer. “Lucky for you, Tits McGee here didn’t have a specified kill method. So it looks like I won’t be putting on my rouge and selling my Grade A Canadian beef on the street corner this week. Go me.” He eyed the creeping symbiote wearily as it worried at a seam on his suit.

“Does that mean you are glad and confident now and I will get happy sex?” Peter purred and rubbed his nose against Wade’s head once more.

“Is ‘happy sex’ code for me letting you slip a tentacle up my ass?”

Peter laughed and squeezed softly where his arm was still wrapped around Wade for support. “I will slip anything anywhere you want it, my sweet murder bunny,” he announced. Leaning in, he added a whispered: “And I’ll let you do the same to me,” against Wade’s ear before he licked over the fabric.

The wet heat transmitted through the fabric of his mask and made Wade shudder. “But that’s not faaaaair,” he whined. “I don’t have a hentai sexy-fun-time strap-on like you do!” With a huff, he bounced on his feet repeatedly in an attempt to jostle Peter’s questing tendrils.

“Oh, you want to share?” Peter teased. “If you want to, I can wrap some of the symbiote around you, too. No problem, my little tentacle whore.”

The tendrils didn’t stop despite Wade’s efforts and slipped beneath the cloth, touching bare skin.

The seam of his costume tore with each press of Peter’s appendages, popping loudly in chorus with Wade’s sharp inhale. “Fuuuuck. The suit, babe,” he complained, though it was only for show. A clever slip of symbiote wrapped around one nipple and tugged, eliciting a gravelly moan.

“Mh, I rather intend to fuck what’s _inside_ the suit,” Peter quipped. “So if you want anything special, you better tell me right away or I will just do what comes to my mind. Right here and now. Unless of course you want me to stop?” It wasn’t a question though, rather a kind warning.

The nomadic tendril abandoned his nipple and began to slip lower, swelling beneath Wade’s costume. He staggered a few steps forward and braced his hands against the brick façade. “P-Petey? Here? I’m gonna have performance anxiety with that pervy, chest-burster mother fucker watching us like this!” he protested in an affected falsetto.

“Aw, you wanna play shy now?” Peter cooed. “Alright then, walk us home. But you better hurry, because I won’t stop what I’m currently doing and I don’t know how far you will make it under these conditions.”

At Peter’s final, sibilantly drawn out ‘s,’ his appendage slid down the furrow of muscle between Wade’s hip and abdominals, curling about the base of his stiff cock and constricting in rhythmic pulses. All thought processes came to a screeching halt. “Sweet mother of…” Wade managed to choke out before clenching his teeth and subconsciously spreading his legs wider.

Peter grinned and let another tentacle slip into Wade’s pants. “Of what, dear?” he chirped. “What were you saying?”

In answer, Wade let out a sound more reminiscent of the last call of a dying animal than anything intelligible.

Peter chuckled and mouthed at his ear once more while the second tentacle prodded against Wade’s entrance. It was thin, but they both knew that this could change in a matter of seconds if required.

Firm, damp sweeps quickly turned into probing with intent. Wade gasped at the first teasing dip and bore down in an attempt to relax sufficiently for what he knew was coming. However, the tentacle coiled tightly around his shaft wasn’t giving his brain much leeway to focus on preparation.

“So much for immortality. You’re gonna be the death of me, Baby Boy,” he panted. His fingers repeatedly dug furrows in the wall before him and wore holes into his gloves.

The young man on his back gave a pleased and sweet little hum then nipped at his ear through the mask. “I’m definitely going to be your blissful little death in a moment,” he promised as the second tentacle slipped deeper into Wade’s core. “And you’re gonna love dying so much that you’ll want another death right away.”

A burning ache lanced through his bowels, sharp enough to make his toes curl. Whatever it was that Peter had become, Wade couldn't get enough. "Gonna make me beg for it?" he stammered.   
  
The slick tentacle bulged in answer and stretched him just shy of the point of pain.

“Yes, on your knees,” Peter grunted into his ear as another tentacle wiggled its way inside of Wade’s pants to tease his balls.

Wade's thighs began to quake. He was going to wind up on his knees whether he wanted to or not at this rate, but he could still bluster. "You're gonna...have...to make...me," he panted.

“Oh, believe me, I will,” Peter promised hoarsely and let the tentacle inside of Wade’s body move faster and even deeper than before. “I’m gonna undo you so thoroughly that you won’t be able to choke out much more than my name, babe.”

A particularly violent undulation of symbiotic phallus managed to wage a rhythmic assault against Wade’s prostate so overwhelming that his arms buckled. The shock of his face hitting the wall barely registered amongst the rush of pleasure that made his eyes cross and his mouth go dry. “Pete. Petey. Spidey. Venom. Holy fuck, I'll call you whatever you want,” he babbled incessantly.

Peter chuckled again and let the tendrils playing with Wade’s cock start to pump him in rhythm with the thrusts of the penetrating tentacle.

“Just call me yours,” he whispered. “If you still can.”

A thin slip of symbiote branched away from the tentacle around Wade's cock and crested the swell of his glans, engulfing the head of his dick like a particularly skilled mouth. After that, all it took was another deep thrust into his ass, slamming directly against his prostate from behind, for him to come undone with a strangled scream. The tendril continued to suckle out each and every molten hot pulse of come.

Peter hummed once again and rubbed his face against the side of Wade’s head. “Did my sweet little honey bear just come?” he asked and nipped at Wade’s ear again. “Hm? Did I fuck him that good?”

Wade sunk down to his knees beneath their combined weight and nodded languidly. “Yeah, yeah you did, Baby Boy,” he slurred, too far gone for a witty comeback.

His human backpack slid back to his own feet to give Wade some space, then withdrew his tentacles. “Mmh, that’s what you deserve,” he purred and crouched down beside Wade to plant a rewarding kiss on his temple. “Even though you lost today. But you’re still such a cute and sexy little merc, aren’t you?”

“The cutest, sexiest merc you’ve ever fuckin’ seen.” Wade grinned and arched back to look up at Peter. “So, are you going to take pity on cute, sexy me? Maybe reconsider the raspberry, lavender glitter bathbombs?”

Once again Peter chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t like glitter,” he declined. “But I might consider carrying you home. How does that sound?”

“Like a Disney princess themed sweet-sixteen dream come true!” Wade exclaimed happily. He staggered to his feet and draped his arms over Peter’s shoulders. Once his wrists were locked, he kicked up to launch his massive body near horizontal with the expectation that Peter would catch him in a bridal hold.

His boyfriend laughed and straightened up, holding Wade in his arms like he weighed nothing. “I’ve never seen a prettier princess than you,” he announced and leaned down to kiss Wade through the mask. “Whatever Disney movie you’d star in, I’d be your Prince Charming, darling.”

“No, no, no. Not Disney. This is some _Little Nemo: Adventures in Slumberland_ level shit. I’m the princess who's totally boning the Nightmare King,” Wade proclaimed. He nuzzled into Peter’s neck and took comfort in his warm, solid strength.

With another soft chuckle, Peter turned towards the exit of the alley and began walking. “Let’s hope you never wake up then, my Nightmare Princess. Because believe me, I would haunt every dimension to find you and get you back.”

Wade wiggled to settle himself more comfortably and closed his eyes. “Hmm…overly possessive and a little bit creepy. I like it,” he murmured into the rippling symbiote covering Peter’s neck.

“You’d better,” Peter stated. “Cause that’s what you’ve got.” 


End file.
